With Butler filled to the brim with exam-tide holiday cheer (not to mention unshowered overachievers) you may be seeking an alternative study spot, any study spot, whether on campus...or slightly, vaguely off. With that in mind Bwog follows correspondent Zack Hoopes inside the ghoulish, gothic depths of Burke Library at the Union Theological Seminary...

Monday, 9:38 pm

I arrive at 121st and Broadway, the entrance to UTS. I don't know where I'm going, and an awkward stare-down with the security guard ensues. He tells me (with a gesture over his shoulder) that the library is "over there." I walk over there. A sign says 'Burke Library' with an arrow pointing down a very, very, long hallway. The floor is made of some sort of brown tile/paneling/dried animal feces, with the greasy shine and unevenness of something that has been rubbed way too much over a very long time. This appearance is not exclusive to the floor. The ambiance of this building can only be described as that which gives you 'the willies.' It's a labyrinth in here, and not a fun one. I expect to run into David Bowie.

Unlike Butler, there is no guard to tell me I can't bring my sandwich into the building so they can sell me a sandwich inside. As I walk through the security scanners, the alarm goes off. The guy at the desk says "It's probably just broken. The only time it should go off is if you actually had a book from here." Apparently circulation at Burke is low. I ask for the pamphlet I've requested from the desk guy. He appears to be a model, upstanding hipster. One of those guys whose personal convictions you're always afraid you'll offend with a crass comment about God or saving the whales or some shit like that.

And now, for another installment of our regular feature, Campus Corners, in which Bwog contributor Mark Krotov illuminates the lesser-known gems of our fair campus, and inspires you to hang out somewhere other than your Wien single.

A few steps from the quaintness of Buell Hall and bold perch of Rodin's The Thinker lies Revson Plaza, farther from classical aestheticism than any other place on campus. Situated on what is essentially an overpass above Amsterdam Avenue, Revson is accessible from the main campus in one of two ways: via a nice, traditional set of stairs next to Kent Hall, or via a comically awkward stair/ramp hybrid just north of Philosophy, whose unfortunately long steps guarantee that no one who walks down them will manage to do so with elegance. Once you conquer the climb, however, Revson rewards you with a stark modernity not often found on Columbia's Campus.

Read more after the jump...

Welcome back to our semi-weekly feature, in which Bwog contributor Mark Krotov takes you to the lesser known gems on our fair campus, forever ruining them for those who didn't need the hint.

In last year's debate over Flash access to Columbia dorms for Barnard students, opponents somewhat arrogantly hypothesized that a free-flowing student body would overtake valuable Columbia facilities, such as East Campus gyms or Schapiro practice rooms. This didn't make much sense to me until I entered the Schapiro sky lounge, at which point I decided that opposing Flash access is not enough. Every student, no matter what their undergraduate affiliation, should be banned from the 17th floor of Schapiro—except for me. Because I want the whole room to myself.

But because my dreams of solitude will probably remain unfulfilled, I must resign myself to enjoying the space in equally contended company. While the building itself may be better known for tiny doubles and tinier showers, the sky lounge is massive, covering a large portion of the floor's surface area.

In which Bwog staffer Mark Krotov familiarizes us with the nooks and crannies at Columbia best suited for getting it on.

Wearing Butler Goggles

When sitting in Butler for eight hours straight has yielded little progress aside from two annotated pages of Confessions and seventeen updates to your Facebook profile, head outside where, chances are, at least five young men and women are standing around in a circle, discussing how over Tapes n Tapes are. It would be social suicide to approach anyone directly, but a sly glance in their direction can guarantee a response, especially if the glance says, "I will totally make out with you if you give me a cigarette." Desperate? Sure. But after a short cigarette break, the dignity that you have just lost will be forgotten, and you will attain the deep focus that will prepare you for at least four more pages before you call it a night.

Seeing the Light in a CAVA Ambulance:

Both of you are covered in vomit and you are nearly comatose, and she has just exerted more effort than she ever thought possible telling the CAVA guys exactly what you drank and at what time you started to go downhill. But look around. Isn't it romantic? The two of you resting quietly (you are on the stretcher, she is leaning next to it, attempting not to fall over) in the stark brightness, College Walk speeding by outside at three miles an hour. Here, it is just the two of you. And suddenly, she has never looked more beautiful, bathed in the fluorescence. You reach up to kiss her, knowing that you will not remember any of it when you wake up in St. Lukes.

More makeout spots after the jump.